


PAINTING THE WOODS RED

by erestor



Series: KNAVE [3]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adventure, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 19:24:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erestor/pseuds/erestor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lórindol aka Nonfindel tries to charm the king of Mirkwood - alas, Thranduil is not overly cooperative...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: Eveiya

Thranduil was an Elf who stuck to his daily routine. Every day, he got up at the same time, had breakfast, went for a short walk and then attended to his duties. He was rather predictable in this, though nobody would have told him so. Thranduil took pride in his reputation for being irritable, unpredictable and difficult, and those around him did not have the heart to destroy this illusion.

It was a lovely spring morning, and Thranduil sat at the table in front of the large window in his study. He loved this spot, as he could look out upon the small flower garden his gardeners had managed to cultivate. It was difficult to make anything grow in Mirkwood, as the sunlight often did not reach the ground, blocked by the thick roof of the trees, but here, all kinds of flowers grew, and Thranduil enjoyed the sight. On very rare occasions he used to sit on the grass and read, sometimes accompanied by Legolas or another of his children, but unfortunately, none of them shared his love for study, and so they usually occupied themselves with carving arrows or stringing bows, while he lost himself in poetry.

Thranduil knew that many, especially among the Elves of Lothlórien, looked upon the "cave king" and his realm with pity, but he did not mind. He did not trust the airiness of the Mallorn trees. How could a couple of interwoven branches be a home? And as for Elrond's Last Homely House: it seemed rather frivolous and pompous in its glory, and Thranduil never felt quite secure behind the intricately carved doors.

For him, a home had to be a castle as well, a fortress, fit to keep those who lived inside safe. No, Thranduil liked his cave just fine. And what could be better than to sit here on this beautiful morning, sipping a cup of tea, overlooking the garden? Enjoying the singing of the birds and the sight of a naked Elf who took a sunbath outside?

Thranduil put down the cup with such force that the saucer rattled.

"Lionel!" he barked, "Come here immediately!"

His chief advisor, who had been busy preparing for their morning meeting in the background, hurried to his king's side, worried by the irritated tone in his voice.

"Is anything wrong, Sire?" he asked.

"Indeed there is! Look out of the window!"

Lionel came to stand beside Thranduil, who had left his table and was now staring out of the window. The advisor did the same, then frowned.

"There is a naked Elf lying on the grass," he stated.

"I know this, do you think me blind? The question is: why is there a naked Elf sunbathing in my garden? Has Mirkwood turned into Imladris and nobody told me? Have this impertinent Elf removed immediately! There could be Elflings or females close by!"

Lionel shuffled his feet.

"Sire, that is Lord Lórindol. I do not know how we could remove him..."

Thranduil groaned and threw his arms in the air.

"You do not? What do I have an army for if not to remove naked Elves from my garden? Let some of my guards carry him away! Use horses to drag him off! It cannot be that difficult to remove a single Elf from my premises, now can it?"

The advisor ducked.

"No, my king, but he is the brother of Lord Glorfindel, and..."

"And if he was Glorfindel himself I would not want to see him in my garden! Naked or clothed!" Thranduil exploded. When he saw that Lionel would not be much help in this matter, he shoved the advisor aside and stormed towards the door.

"Sire, what are you going to do?" Lionel called after him. Thranduil, already halfway out of the door, growled.

"Remove a disturbance from my garden! Somebody has to maintain law and order here, after all!"

Lionel shook his head. He was very fond of Thranduil, and was not looking forward to seeing his king lose a battle.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil has to learn that it is easier to chase spiders out of Mirkwood than a naked Elf out of his garden...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Eveiya

Nonfindel was the picture of relaxation and laziness. Spread out on the ground, he enjoyed the tickle of the soft grass on his naked skin and the warmth of the morning sun.

Mirkwood was a wonderful place to be. Agreed, there were the spiders, but the guards did a good job of keeping them away from the Great Cave, and most Elves were friendly. There was inspiration aplenty to be found here, and Nonfindel was not only thinking of the handsome archers with their intriguing tattoos. And then there was Thranduil...

He chewed on a blade of grass, eyes half closed, and hummed a tune. A butterfly landed on his belly, but Nonfindel did not notice. He shifted, and the flower-chain decorating his hair slipped half off his head. Nonfindel only opened his eyes when a shadow fell on his face, to see if maybe a cloud had covered the sun.

It was not a cloud, though Thranduil's face was definitely showing all the signs of an upcoming storm. Arms akimbo, the king of Mirkwood towered over Nonfindel, who blinked and smiled up at the Woodland Elf.

"Good morning, King Thranduil! Would you like to join me in greeting the day?"

"I am here to tell you to leave my garden immediately, Lórindol!" Thranduil snapped. "Maybe lying around naked is the normal way to spend the day in Imladris, but here in Mirkwood, we do not leave our homes unclothed, and we work!"

"I will take that as a 'no' then." Nonfindel grinned and stretched, but made no other move.

Thranduil, trying his best not to let his eyes wander below Nonfindel's waist, folded his arms over his chest.

"Exactly. Now get up, get out of my garden and make yourself useful. We do not have the resources to feed a lazy Elf without a purpose."

Nonfindel rolled onto his front, gracing Thranduil with an excellent view of his nicely shaped backside.

"Then I do not see where the problem is, my dear king. I do have a purpose: to get an even suntan on my backside as well. I would really recommend that you shed your clothes and join me. Every new day we are gifted with is precious, and we should show some gratitude and enjoy it."

Thranduil swallowed hard. Though he tried to concentrate on the ridiculous flower chain on Nonfindel's head, he could not help but stare at his rear. And the long legs. The way the golden hair spread over the broad shoulders. And the... by the Forest Spirits! Thranduil pinched the bridge of his nose. It was high time to show this obnoxious Elf who had the say-so here in Mirkwood!

"I order you forthwith to get up, get dressed and get out of my sight!" he shouted. His voice had the tone and volume he used in battle, and not even Nonfindel dared to ignore such an order. Sighing, the blond Elf got up, slipped into his robes, then bent down to pick up the flower chain which had fallen off his head.

"Your wish is, as usual, my command, dear king." Nonfindel hinted a bow. "You do not know what you are missing," he purred, pressing the flower chain onto Thranduil's head and batting his lashes. Thranduil turned brick red with anger, but before he could lash out at the wicked Elf, Nonfindel had already turned and left. The guards craned their necks to get a good view of Glorfindel's half-naked brother, and one of them even gave a wolf whistle.

"Quiet!" Thranduil yelled. "Next one to comment on this will go and count Galadhrim in Lothlórien for the next decade!"

This, of course, did not scare any of his guards, but they were too busy suppressing giggles at the sight of the garland on Thranduil's head to express their admiration for Nonfindel's shapely backside any further.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn about King Oropher's slightly excentric taste in arts, and Nonfindel finally gets to do something useful...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Eveiya

Back in his chambers, Nonfindel reached for his sketchbook. While he flipped through the pages to find the drawing he had been working on, he considered his situation.

Thranduil was proving to be far more difficult to win over than he had expected. When the king of Mirkwood had fallen out of a tree, right into his arms, Nonfindel had taken it as a sign from the Valar. He often thought back on that day, when the battle over Námo's ring had been won. Thranduil had felt so right in his arms, and immediately, there had been a bond between them.

A bond Thranduil had stubbornly decided to ignore ever since. Nonfindel often felt his eyes on him when Thranduil thought he was not paying attention. When he took a walk in the woods around the Great Cave, Thranduil watched him from the window of his study. On one unforgettable occasion, Thranduil had carefully laid a blanket over Nonfindel when he had found the Elf seemingly asleep in front of the cold fireplace in his main hall.

This had only confirmed Nonfindel's assumption that Thranduil did care for him. He had tried the subtle approach, but to no avail. Whenever he had tried to flirt, Thranduil had briskly cut him off, had once even thrown him out of his study. So he had decided to go for the more obvious. He knew he was fair, and maybe, with the carrot dangling in front of his face, Thranduil could be persuaded to take a bite?

Nonfindel, having found the drawing, took a piece of graphite and began to work out the details on the draft. It was a portrait of Thranduil. He was featuring predominantly in all of Nonfindel's work since he had arrived in Mirkwood. The first ten pages in his sketchbook showed trees, trees and then some more trees - a precaution to distract prying eyes. But then followed page after page of his favourite model:

Thranduil reading.  
Thranduil eating.  
Thranduil thinking.  
Thranduil sleeping.

It was not easy to fix on paper what he saw in the king's face, because Thranduil usually looked reserved, bored, angry or annoyed. But Nonfindel portrayed him smiling, tiny wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. A fair face, peaceful, at rest. Nothing of the worries which seemed to weigh the king down showed in this piece of art.

Nonfindel was just about to begin work on the hair when he was disturbed by a knock on his door.

"Come in," he called, and the door opened to reveal advisor Lionel. Nonfindel arched an eyebrow, as the usually so tidy looking Elf was covered with a thick layer of dust. There was a dark smudge on his nose, and his braids were askew.

"Lord Lórindol, I am here to ask you in the name of King Thranduil for your assistance," he began, trying to catch a glimpse of the drawing the artist had been working on. But Nonfindel closed his sketchbook quickly, and gave the disappointed-looking advisor his most cheerful smile.

"Your king's wish is my command, dear Lionel. What can I do for him?"

"Please follow me, my lord. I will show you."

Nonfindel followed the advisor deep into the cave. He had been in Mirkwood for over a month, and still he found new corridors, halls and chambers every day; the Great Cave was a labyrinth. Finally, they arrived in a hall Nonfindel had not seen before. It was large, and along the sides, seats were hewn in the walls. The ground was covered with soft, black sand, and a throne stood in the middle. It was not much different from the other stone seats, but its position in the centre of the room made it obvious to Nonfindel whose seat this was.

"This is the Black Cave, where the king holds his meetings with the elders of the clans," Lionel explained. "It is one of the oldest parts of the Great Cave, and this is why we have problems now."

He crossed the hall, and Nonfindel followed him. This place had an odd atmosphere. There was something archaic about it. Elves had sat here in council in a time when Imladris had not even been built. Maybe Mirkwood was even older than they had thought?

Lionel stopped, and pointed at the wall in front of him. Nonfindel looked up, and saw what the problem was.

A part of the ceiling had collapsed, probably weakened by water. The falling debris had covered the back of the hall with stone dust and partially destroyed the large wall painting which had decorated it. The crumbled rock had been carried away already, and Lionel, judging from his looks, had been involved.

Nonfindel shuddered. What a horrid painting!

"Good grief," he gasped, "who is that?"

Lionel winced, and quickly looked over his shoulder to see if they were alone before he answered.

"It is a portrait of the mighty king Oropher, father of King Thranduil. This painting shows him in the glorious battle where he lost his life. It is very - heroic."

Nonfindel shook his head. Oropher was portrayed larger than life, a wild expression on his face. A halo of sunbeams surrounded his head; his naked chest was covered with tattoos - marks of his great victories. Orcs were shown, fleeing in terror, and behind a bush, Elves could be seen, wringing their hands and crying in fear.

He pointed at one particularly terrified-looking Elf, and asked: "May I ask who this might be?"

Lionel cringed.

"This... I guess it is supposed to be the High King, my lord."

Nonfindel laughed out loud, making Lionel once again turn around fearfully.

"Now wait a minute, my friend. Are you trying to tell me that this picture shows Oropher fighting heroically while Gil-galad cowers behind a bush? Say, who wrote your history books - the village fool?"

"Shhhh! Do not speak so loud, somebody could hear you!"

Nonfindel still snickered.

"I am sorry, my dear Lionel, it was not my intention to be disrespectful. But this is nonsense. Gil-galad may not be my favourite Elf under the sun, but he is certainly not a coward. Might it not be time, after all these years, to finally admit that King Oropher was not quite the flawless hero of your books?"

Lionel cleared his throat, then he straightened up.

"Be that as it may. My king Thranduil wondered if you could restore the painting, as he likes it very much."

Nonfindel rubbed his chin, still staring at the painting. There was one figure which had caught his attention. It was a young Elf, kneeling in the mud of the battle field. He was armed with bow and arrow, and aimed at an Orc who was attacking Oropher. His face showed concentration and fear, but also the will not to move, no matter what. It was the face of an Elf who was determined, if necessary, to die for his king.

It was the face of a very young Thranduil.

"I would be honoured to do this," Nonfindel finally said, "but on one condition: I do not wish to be disturbed, as I need to concentrate, and nobody shall see the painting until it is finished. Could you agree to this?"

Lionel, glad that the discussion about the probably not so heroic deeds of Oropher had ended, nodded eagerly.

"Of course, my lord, all shall be as you wish. Tell me what supplies you need, and I shall make sure you are provided with them."

Nonfindel rubbed his hands.

"Wonderful! I will begin immediately. And please, Lionel, give your king my thanks for trusting me with such a prestigious task. I really appreciate it and will not disappoint him."

Lionel promised to pass on the message. He felt a little guilty, as Thranduil's actual words had been "keep this individual busy in the most distant corner of the cave and out of my braids for as long as possible", but he did not have the heart to tell Nonfindel so.

The artist stared at the wall and the half-ruined picture. He knew exactly how to save it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil really hates to admit it, but he is missing being bothered..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Eveiya

For the next month, there was neither hide nor hair to be seen of Nonfindel. His laughter did not interrupt Thranduil's studies anymore, he could breakfast without being disturbed by the sight of a naked Elf in his garden, and in the evening, he could drink his glass of Miruvor without Nonfindel's garrulous company.

This, much to Thranduil's surprise, annoyed him greatly.

Nonfindel, with his colourful, luxurious robes, had stood out from the Mirkwood Elves and their plain browns and greens like a dog with two heads. Thranduil missed the opportunity to rant for hours with Lionel or Legolas over Nonfindel's outrageous behaviour and caprioles.

The king caught himself more than once staring longingly out of the window or listening for an echo of that cheerful laughter. Yes, Nonfindel had been irritating, but he had also been very entertaining. Thranduil had never admitted it, but it was good to have some company, to be able to talk to somebody who shared his love for poetry, study and art. The hours when Nonfindel had read aloud some of his favourite poems had been precious to Thranduil. The other Elf had a warm, enchanting voice, and seemed to feel the words as he read them, bringing them to life.

Ah, his voice... once Thranduil had even fallen asleep during one of those readings. There was something comforting about it, and Thranduil, who was usually a light sleeper, his slumber often disturbed by nightmares, had slept peacefully all through the night. Officially, he had complained loudly about Nonfindel's choice of boring tales, but deep in his heart he was grateful for the gift of a peaceful night, free of the shadows of the past.

There was a fine, needle-point pain in his chest whenever Thranduil sat alone in front of his fireplace now. No more poetry. Nonfindel had locked himself up in the Black Cave, and did not allow anybody to enter. He seemed to work day and night on the painting, and those daring enough to try to catch a glimpse of the work in progress were sent away immediately. Nonfindel had even thrown a pot of red paint over Legolas, who had spent the next three days trying to get the paint out of his hair.

Nonfindel might be an airhead in all everyday concerns, but when it came to his work, he seemed utterly dedicated. And he was good. Thranduil understood more of art than most assumed, and had even tried his hand at small sketches. They were nothing special, he knew, but not bad, either. It was a shame Legolas had inherited absolutely nothing of his love for the fine arts. The best in terms of art Legolas could produce were stickmen and, as an Elfling, a shapeless vase he had formed out of clay and given his father for Yule.

Thranduil felt relieved when Nonfindel finally announced that the painting was finished. If it had been up to him, "Oropher's great victory" would have been thrown away with the debris. He considered the picture a history-bending atrocity, and the thought of having to endure it in fresh colours for the next centuries made him cringe.

But at least Nonfindel would be available for him again. And this made Thranduil happier than he was comfortable with.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The artwork is presented - the opinions are split.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Eveiya

As per the artist's instructions, Thranduil and all members of the clan and the council assembled after dinner in the Black Cave. Oropher's heroic battle was hidden behind a dark red curtain, and Nonfindel was running nervously from left to right, talking here, laughing there, quite obviously excited to reveal his artwork.

When finally everybody had arrived, Nonfindel clapped his hands, and all talks ceased, the eyes of those present fixed in curiosity on the artist.

"King Thranduil, my lords, dear friends: I would like to thank you all once more for your hospitality and for trusting me with this artwork. I hope that it will find your approval. I did my best to portray the greatness of this realm, of its king and those who live here."

With that, he pulled a cord, and the curtain fell to the ground, revealing the picture.

For a moment, there was silence. Everybody stared at the painting, some, like Legolas, with their mouths hanging open. The expression on Thranduil's face was blank.

Nonfindel had not restored the painting. Gone were heroic Oropher and the battlefield. Instead, a peaceful scene was covering the wall. Thranduil was shown stretched out lazily in the grass, reading a book, his head propped up on his hand. There was a smile on his face, as if he was reading an amusing tale. On his head, there was a crown of cornflowers, and next to him sat Legolas, stringing a bow. They were surrounded by the clan, council members, guards - even a stable boy could be seen! They all sat in the grass or among the trees, it looked like a family pick-nick. While it was a beautiful picture, it was definitely not the one Nonfindel had been ordered to paint.

Legolas was the first to speak.

"You know, I really like that one," he said, scratching his head, "we are all looking so happy. But why are the trees red?"

"I tried to symbolize that the Elves of Mirkwood have a fiery temper, despite their good nature. You are strong and courageous, but yet, you are also a people able of great love," Nonfindel explained.

"I do not understand art," Legolas said, "but yes, I like it. Ada looks great. Lionel is a bit on the podgy side, though."

Nonfindel let out a sigh of relief. In contradiction to his positive air he had not been certain how his work would be received. He had tried to restore the original painting, but could not bring himself to finishing it. The thing was too ugly.

He looked anxiously at Thranduil, who had not showed any reaction so far. Now the king walked closer to the painting, and stared at his portrait. For a long time, he studied his counterfeit, then he turned around and looked at Nonfindel. The artist could not tell whether this look was approving or not, but there was something in Thranduil's eyes which touched him deeply and made him tremble.

"What do you say, my king?" Lionel asked, not daring to comment one way or the other until his king had made his opinion clear. Thranduil did not look at him, or at any of the others who were present. He crossed the room and left without a word.

Nonfindel stared after him. His shoulders drooped, and he felt like crying. Quite obviously, he had just royally ruined the last chance of ever getting close to Thranduil.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil fears for his reputation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Eveiya

Thranduil had already prepared for the night when he heard a tentative knock on his door.

"I am already sleeping!" he yelled.

The door opened, and in came Nonfindel. This Elf was definitely the last one Thranduil wished to see right now, and a frown showed on his brow.

"If you were already sleeping, you would not have answered," Nonfindel said, closing the door behind him.

"What do you want? You have but one moment before I order my guards to remove you from my chambers."

Nonfindel had to collect his thoughts first. He had stood outside of Thranduil's door for at least half an hour, rehearsing the little speech he had prepared. But now, at the sight of the king wearing nothing but a thin pair of sleeping pants, all the beautiful, well-chosen words seemed to have disappeared.

"I came to bid my farewells. I shall leave for Imladris in the morning."

Thranduil took a step back, and for a moment, his face showed genuine surprise. But then his impassive mask was back in place.

"I knew you were not made for life in Mirkwood. You had better go back to the soft beds and plush sofas."

Nonfindel sighed.

"I wish to apologise for ruining your picture. Though there was not much to ruin. It was awful, and I think the artist was not too fond of your father. But maybe you can cover it with a tapestry."

"You will not leave."

Nonfindel looked at Thranduil as if he had sprouted a second head.

"Pardon me? Of course I will. Who should hold me back?"

Thranduil tilted his chin arrogantly.

"This is not a request. You will stay here and return the picture to its original state."

The artist chuckled.

"With greatest pleasure. If you give me a hammer, I will start right now."

Thranduil growled and glared at Nonfindel, who suddenly had a revelation.

"I see," he grinned, "you do not want me to leave, is that it? You wish me to stay and keep you company!"

The king wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Nonsense. Why should I wish for your company?"

Nonfindel took a step closer, a predatory expression on his face.

"Because I am charming, witty, share your love of the fine arts and am very pleasing to the eye. Come, admit it, Thranduil - you are fond of me."

Thranduil folded his arms over his chest and clenched his jaws.

"No-one could be less fond of you than I am, Lórindol. The only characteristic surpassing your arrogance is your vanity."

Nonfindel shrugged.

"Fine, then do not admit it. It does not change the facts, though."

With that, he unlaced his tunic and then, much to Thranduil's horror, pulled it over his head.

"What are you doing?" he yelped.

"I would have thought that was obvious: I am undressing," Nonfindel replied while he hopped on one foot to take off his boots.

"You will not undress in my chambers!"

The trousers followed the boots, and Thranduil interrupted his protests for a moment to stare at the naked Elf opposite him.

"You would not want me in your bed with my boots on, now would you?"

"My bed? Why... what..." Thranduil stuttered. This would have been the moment to grab Nonfindel by the scruff of the neck and kick him out of his bedroom, but the Elf had already gone over to the large bed and slipped under the covers. He patted the space beside him invitingly and wiggled his eyebrows at Thranduil.

"Will you join me now, Thranduil, or stand there all night?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil does finally give in - but then again, he does not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Eveiya

Finally even Thranduil understood Nonfindel's far from subtle hints, and all colour drained from his face.

"You! Out of my bed! Immediately! Who in the name of the Forest Spirits do you think you are? Do you think me so desperate that I must invite an untalented hack of a house painter to my bed?"

Nonfindel rolled his eyes.

"Firstly: you did not invite me to your bed. I invited myself. Secondly: I am not untalented, and you know it very well. The painting in your Black Cave is excellent."

Thranduil closed his fingers into fists and went over to the bed.

"I hate that painting!"

Nonfindel, not impressed in the least by the king's outburst, shook his head.

"No, you do not hate it. What you hate is the way I portrayed you."

Thranduil was taken aback.

"What do you mean by that?"

"You enjoy playing the wild and dangerous king of the Woodland Elves. But I portrayed you the way I see you: wise, gentle, loveable. Your image is at risk."

Thranduil hit his fist on the night table.

"I am not loveable!"

Nonfindel sighed.

"On my journeys I have met many wolves who tried to fool people into believing they were sheep. You, my dear friend, are the first sheep who tried to convince me of being a wolf. Now stop being difficult and come to bed."

This was wrong on so many levels. Thranduil was not one to take love lightly; he had never been interested in short affairs. And it had always been him making the choice. The way Nonfindel had approached him went against everything Thranduil considered proper and decent.

But on the other hand, the Elf in his bed was oh so tempting... maybe he should give in? Maybe... maybe the other could be convinced to stay until morning and not disappear into the night after their encounter? It would be wonderful to wake up and not be alone, just for once… but no. No. He could not do this. What if anybody learned about it? What would his advisors say? His clan? Legolas?

Nonfindel's lips looked very soft. What would it be like to kiss them?

"Thranduil. Stop thinking and come here. I will not herald this all over Arda, nobody will demand a written report from you, and Legolas is busy with his new lady love."

Thranduil, startled by Nonfindel's talent for reading his thoughts, came to a decision.

"Very well then. But know this: should I ever learn that our encounter here has become gossip for all of Middle-earth, you will wish that you had never hatched from the dragon's-egg you probably came from."

Nonfindel snickered and watched with amusement as Thranduil took his sleeping pants off with quick, angry movements before joining him in the large carved bed.

Thranduil lay an arm's length away from Nonfindel, hands folded behind his back, staring at the ceiling. There was an awkward silence between them, finally broken by Nonfindel.

"The ceiling needs a new coat of paint," he said. "I understand that this is important to you, but I would be grateful if you could turn your attention to me once you have decided on the colour."

Thranduil did not answer. He could feel the warmth of the other Elf despite the distance between them, and his heart beat faster. It had been very long since somebody had shared his bed.

"Is that really the way you see me? I mean - what you said before," he finally asked, not looking at Nonfindel. The other turned towards Thranduil and propped his head on his hand.

"Yes."

"You are very strange."

"You waste time by stating the obvious."

Nonfindel smiled and moved to Thranduil's side, snuggling up to the king. Thranduil would have bitten his tongue off rather than admit it, but this felt - right. After a moment's hesitation, he put his arm around Nonfindel and drew him even closer. The other Elf pressed a gentle kiss on his shoulder. He licked slowly along the collarbone, taking his time, and finally reached a nipple and bit it playfully.

Thranduil closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

"Now then, your royal highness, Thranduil the exceptional and impressive, most splendid and feared ruler of Mirkwood, king by the Valar's grace, ruler of 2000 years, shining star of Greenwood the Green, fairest of all Elven lords, light of the dark ages, son of Oropher the magnificent: I have to tell you that I very much like the taste of your skin. And if you do not mind, I will now explore the rest of you as well.”

Thranduil had no chance to answer, as Nonfindel rolled on top of him and closed his mouth with a kiss. One could question Nonfindel's clothing style and choice of colours, but his kisses were inarguably exquisite. Lots of practice, probably. Thranduil was not sure if he liked this thought or not.

Nonfindel had now moved from mouth to cheek and from there to ear, nibbling on a pointed tip. A delightful shiver ran through Thranduil's body.

"Lórindol, you have a wicked tongue.”

His lover chuckled and nuzzled his neck.

"Oh please, stop calling me Lórindol. I do not like that name.”

"This is exactly the reason why I call you by it. Lórindol, Lórindol, Lórindol!”

Nonfindel gave a growl, which turned into a moan when Thranduil ran his hands down his spine and onto his rear, where he tried an experimental squeeze.

"Nice and firm. I like that.”

Nonfindel nudged his lover's by now rather prominent erection with his thigh.

"I can return that compliment. How about combining our talents?”

"I like the way you think, Lórindol,” Thranduil replied with a predatory smile.

More kisses followed, with strong hands raking over heated skin.

"I hope you do not store the oil too far away from the bed," Nonfindel moaned.

"Oil? What do you need oil for?" Thranduil asked, drawing a chuckle from his lover.

"I am a considerate lover, Thranduil. Under no circumstances would I take you without proper preparation."

"Take me? You will not take me. Nobody is going to take me. If anybody is taken here, it will be you!" Thranduil protested. Nonfindel rolled his eyes.

"Thranduil, this is a bed, not a training field. And this is not about fighting and winning."

Thranduil stopped his movements immediately and took his hands off Nonfindel's back, making the Elf groan with disappointment.

"There are three rules in my bedroom, Lórindol. They were established ages ago, and I have no intention of changing them:

First: no eating in bed.  
Second: the left side of the bed is mine.  
Third: I do the taking."

Nonfindel tapped his fingers on Thranduil's chest, considering his options. He could insist and end up sleeping on the couch – and probably spontaneously combust with frustration in the process – or give in to Thranduil's stubbornness.

He traced one of the patterns on Thranduil's chest with his index finger, delighting in the softness of the skin. The king shifted, the friction making Nonfindel moan. He looked up at Thranduil, saw the passion in his eyes but also the smile, so confident of victory.

"Thranduil,” he purred, batting his lashes, "I think we should throw a coin."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All is well that ends well. Or is it a new start?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Eveiya

Thranduil woke up in the early hours of the morning. It was still dark outside, and for a moment, he was confused by the noise that had disturbed his dreams. He yawned and looked up, wincing when he shifted. He was sore – but it was a good kind of sore. Rather pleasant, actually, a reminder of a night he would not forget anytime soon.

The noise came from Nonfindel, who sat upright on the left side of the bed eating a pastry.

"Was breaking one of my rules not enough, Lórindol?" Thranduil groaned and rolled around to rest his head on Nonfindel's thigh.

"It was a fair game, Thranduil. Heads: I win, tails: you lose.”

"Your concept of fairness is peculiar, to say the least,” Thranduil replied.

Nonfindel had finished his pastry, and was now looking for a napkin to wipe his sticky fingers. Thranduil took his hand and gently sucked each finger in turn, licking them clean. While doing so, he kept looking straight into Nonfindel's eyes, and his lover moaned.

"Thranduil, you make me want to do things that I could not manage right now. I had no idea that you could be this cruel.”

"Says the one who litters my bed with crumbs.”

Thranduil chuckled, nuzzled Nonfindel's limp penis, then kissed the palm of his hand. He liked his lover's hands. They were strong and long-fingered, perfect to hold and caress him. Thranduil pressed the hand close to his chest and snuggled up to Nonfindel, resting his cheek on his belly. He had every intention of enjoying these last few precious hours to the full extent.

"May I suggest a compromise, Thranduil?” Nonfindel asked. The king nodded, absent-mindedly caressing his lover's side.

"If you stop calling me 'Lórindol', I will not eat any food in your bed again, unless it comes in liquid form and I can lick it off you. What do you think of this proposal?”

Thranduil froze. He felt Nonfindel's hands in his hair, gently stroking, the long fingers running through the tousled strands.

"What time frame are we talking about here?" he asked, closing his eyes and giving in to the loving touches. "Days? Weeks?”

Nonfindel was now caressing the back of Thranduil's ear, a spot he had found to be very responsive last night.

"Actually, what I had in mind was a long-term commitment,” he answered, "a millennium, maybe? Or two? We could re-negotiate our terms in the fifth age, if you like.”

Thranduil smiled, leaning into the caress.

"Agreed. And as I feel particularly generous today, you may sleep on the left side of the bed in future.”

"Thank you, Thranduil,” Nonfindel answered, bending down to kiss him," I love you, too.”

* * *  
THE END


End file.
